


Farewell

by thispagealone



Series: From East To West [8]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-02
Updated: 2012-04-02
Packaged: 2017-11-02 22:25:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/374014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thispagealone/pseuds/thispagealone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because everyone deserves a second chance. All the more in the darkest moments of our lives. Susan's redemption. Post The Last Battle. Lucy's POV</p>
            </blockquote>





	Farewell

**Author's Note:**

> This is my homage to the Gentle Queen. A sad little part of this fandom actually like her. She forgot Narnia, true, but did she really? I think what she had was sort of a spiritual crisis. All the people who lean to much on their logic and rationality have one. I am one of those. I think, though, that her whole family's death – real and adopted – put things on a totally different plan for her. This is the story of the return of Queen Susan of the Horn, seen through the eyes of those who passed on.

Here I am again, on the cliff from which I can see dear old England. I take a big breath, happy to be in Real Narnia, like the first day. My only worry is for her, my sister, alone and desperate. How I long for her to be with us again. Cair Paravel isn’t the same, without her sweet songs resounding in the halls. I am watching her now, trying to understand what she is doing and why she isn’t getting dressed for our funerals. She usually needs at least two hours to be ready to go out. I guess it isn’t a normal occurrence, though. I turn from the scene as I feel my two brothers come close to me.

“Is she still sewing?” Asks Edmund, bewildered. “Won’t she be late? She hates being late!”

“Seeing as she’s laying her whole family to rest, I think they’ll wait for her. Don’t you think Ed?” Answers Peter, a hand on Edmund’s shoulder.

“Yes…”

We are silent for a bit, until I see what Susan is actually sewing. I can’t stop the gasp that leaves my throat.

“It can’t be…” is what exits my mouth, when I am finally able to speak. Edmund and Peter, who turned around when Susan started to undress, turn back to see what has made my voice so breathless.

“Is that…” Peter can’t finish that sentence. His words too choked to come out.

“It is.” Says Edmund, gently, and when I turn to him he has a sweet smile on his lips and tears in his eyes. I know now that I haven’t been the only one who never abandoned hope.

Susan is wearing a black velvet gown, clearly of Narnian design, and is now putting small, red flowers among her long, wavy hair. When she finally stands up, we are able to see what we hoped would happen for years: Queen Susan the Gentle is ready to brighten the world with her beauty, once again. Oh, how I wish it was a happy event that brought this long-awaited change in my beloved sister! How I wish she didn’t have to suffer so! A choked sob from my left brings me back to my surroundings. I turn to see Peter, a hand in front of his lips, tears streaming down his cheeks. Edmund is hiding his face in our brother’s shoulder. The sob came from his mouth. I raise a hand to my own face to find it wet. I didn’t notice that I am crying, too.

Next thing I know, Susan is in a park… No, it’s not a park, it’s a cemetery, but it’s beautiful and peaceful. In the shadow of a big oak, nine gravestones are planted, in two rows. One of them holds our parents, the Professor and Aunt Polly’s graves. In front of it those of the youngest, ours. I see everybody is throwing strange looks at Susan. It’s probably because of her dress, or her bare feet maybe. Not many people are there, some friends, aunt Alberta and uncle Harold, Jill’s parents and the McReady. Then the priest and the friends leave, only the last five stay; they seem to have sensed that something is going to happen with Susan, for she has yet to move from her place, next to my grave.

When Susan starts singing, I feel myself sway. Only Peter and Edmund’s hands prevent me from falling. It’s the song we – all three of us – wrote for her 20th birthday in Narnia and we stand in silence, listening to her clear, wonderful voice:

 

_The sweetest light is in your eyes,_

_The love you give our hearts delights,_

_The Northern Mountains sing your praise,_

_The Western Woods will keep you safe,_

_The Eastern Sea thinks you are the best,_

_In Aslan’s glory may you always rest._

_This is our song, o sister dear,_

_We are here with you, do never fear!_

We had written it in jest, as a joke to make her laugh. She had loved it, though, and it could be often heard, echoing through the Cair. The fact that she is singing it now means that she remembers, that she never forgot, that a life without Narnia was simply something she couldn’t face. What she forgot is that _we_ are Narnia. She should have stayed with us…

She is taking something out from a bag now, and Ed is gasping a ‘What?!’ I understand his puzzled expression now, because Susan is placing various items on the fresh soil of our graves. She lays two red roses on our parents’ graves and two apples on the Professor and aunt Polly’s. Then she leaves an arrow on Jill’s and a small silver dragon on Eustace’s. On Peter’s grave she sets an oak and apple-leaves crown and a small dagger, on Edmund’s a crown made of birch leaves and the black King-piece of a chess set. On my grave she places a circlet made of laurel leaves and flowers (I’m sure there are also a few yarrow flowers there) and the figurine of a golden lion. The three of us are crying our eyes out by now and are only able to hold onto each other in anguish. I want my sister with me! I have never desired for her to be by my side more than at this moment.

“Who’s going to take care of her now? Who will make sure she doesn’t forget to sleep or eat? Who’s going to tell her that she’ll never be alone, because we are Narnia and we will always be there with her, no matter what?” Edmund’s frantic questions are carving a hole into my heart. How am I supposed to answer, when I’m asking myself the same things? A Voice comes from behind us and my soul is immediately at peace.

“Do not worry, dearest ones.” Aslan says, licking away our tears. He still loves to come to us as a Lion, I think. “Your sister walks with me again. I will never leave her side. You will see her again, I promise you that. For the time being, though, you will have to watch over her from here.” He turns to our old England again and nods to Susan with a smile. “Look, my children.”

We look at our sister again. Susan is curtsying deeply and the others are just standing there in awe. I think they must feel the solemnity of the moment,  even aunt Alberta has yet to say a word. When Susan straightens again, I suddenly see it. I frantically grasp my brothers’ hands and gesture wildly to our gravestones.

“Ed! Pete! Look!” I exclaim excitedly. Edmund chuckles wetly and Peter says softly, “Oh, Su…”

On the polished marble stones there are no names or dates, only this words:

 

_High King Peter the Magnificent, Narnia’s sword. You are the sun that lights my days._

_King Edmund the Just, Narnia’s shield. You are the star that guides my path._

_Queen Lucy the Valiant, Narnia’s heart. You are the love that fills my soul._

 

Before she leaves we hear her sweet voice again:

“I haven’t forgotten, my loves: ‘Once a king or queen of Narnia, always a king or queen’. I will live like a Narnian, even if there is no Narnia. And I _will_ see you again. Until that moment comes, may Aslan keep you in His glory and love… Farewell.”


End file.
